


Get You Out Of My System

by Bbllaanncchhee2110



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Smut, jealous Rio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bbllaanncchhee2110/pseuds/Bbllaanncchhee2110
Summary: It has been one year since their altercation in the aftermath of their second Fine and Frugal heist. Beth hasn't managed to move on quite yet.





	Get You Out Of My System

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more Brio fics, so I just wrote one.
> 
> Yes, there is some violence in this story, but I really only checked the box to be on the save side.

The guy Beth picks is heavily tattooed. There’s a skull and some roses on his neck, some kind of writing above his left eyebrow, there are a few intricate symbols on his temples. His hands are tattooed as well, some kind of bird on the left one and the face of a girl on the right, a letter on each finger. It is a little too much for her actually, but he’s tall and somewhat slender, and she can see from the way his jeans cling to his backside that he must be pretty fit. He’s wearing a dark grey shirt buttoned up all the way, his aforementioned jeans are a dark shade of blue that contrasts sharply with his white sneakers. When he bends over the snooker table she can see a shimmer of metal that must stem from a gun that is tucked into his waistband. His dark hair is cropped short at the sides, a little longer on top and at the back, a shadow of stubble plays around his chin. 

Beth is nervous, she normally doesn’t frequent this kind of bar, but she needs this. She twirls the amber liquid in her glass before downing it in one gulp. She nods towards the bartender for another one and eyes her target through the mirror behind the bar. Their eyes meet for a brief second and she quickly averts her gaze, flushing a deep red. Maybe she isn’t up for this after all. She takes a sip from the glass that has been placed in front of her. 

It is the first night she has had to herself in two months and after she has thought about it for quite some time, she has decided to do it tonight. Just this once to get it out of her system. She needs to move on with her life, but so far it has been impossible. She has had her fair share of suitors, if you’d want to call them that. But all of them have lacked in one area or another and nothing has ever come of it, because she wouldn’t let it, because she couldn’t let it. It has taken her a while to realize and Annie’s incessant nagging might have helped a little – for once – to help her come to terms with what has been keeping her from forming any kind of relationships in the past year. This is why she has decided to go to this stingy bar and pick up the first tattooed stranger that shows an interest. And really just to get it out of her system. She needs this just once and then maybe she will be able to finally agree to go on that date, that George from the PTA has been asking her out on for at least six months now, but which she has been refusing for just as long. And he is a nice guy. Divorced for about a year, one daughter living with him, good job, funny, decent looking, but well… 

She rolls her eyes at herself. She is beyond annoyed with herself, because on the one hand, she wants this, on the other, she can feel herself chickening out in about five seconds. 

That is, until she feels a slightly too small hand on her arm. “Hey,” a not quite deep enough voice says next to her, “Mind if I buy you a drink?” She looks up from her drink which is still almost untouched and finds the tattooed stranger, she has been eying for the last twenty minutes, next to her. He raises an eyebrow and both corners of his mouth curl upwards in a way that doesn’t seem quite right to her but will have to do for tonight. In search of a little liquid courage she knocks back her bourbon and says, “Why thank you for noticing, I have just finished my drink.” 

She gives him a small smile, leaning forward just a fraction to give his eyes a little more access to her cleavage. She has dressed to impress, totally inappropriate for this kind of bar, but she’s figured that her Stepfort card is the strongest in her deck. So, she has settled on a black pencil skirt and a light blush colored blouse that is somewhat translucent, showing off her black lacy bra underneath just enough to tease but not enough to make her seem cheap. The three top buttons however, that she has left undone, speak of a whole different story. She has topped the outfit off with the highest pair of black, lacquered pumps she has been able find without actually having to venture into a sex shop. She knows she looks good, poor George probably wouldn’t be able to handle her like that. She can see him before her inner eye, spilling himself into his pants before he’s gotten to touch even one inch of skin. But it is not George she is after today. She flips back her curled mane of reddish blond hair and looks up at the stranger, making big kohl-rimmed eyes at him.

“Bourbon, please,” she says in a sweet voice and she can see that he is attracted to her. She can see how his pupils have dilated, how his tongue has flicked outside, wetting his lower lip, how his eyes travel from her eyes to her lips to her boobs in quick succession, before they dart back to her eyes and start the whole process again. This is too easy, she thinks. This might not be enough. From this distance he doesn’t even look all that dangerous. She might have to pretend, because this trip serves a purpose. She needs to get a grip on herself, on her life, she needs to move on, and if this isn’t what it takes, it is at least the damn well nearest she can get there. 

He nods towards the barkeep and orders in perfect unaccented English that just doesn’t sound right to her. Now that he stands next to her, he is too slim, too short, too young, too everything. She decides to wait a little before she makes her decision whether to go through with this or not. It would do her good to get laid, however mediocre it might be. 

Their drinks arrive and to her dismay he has ordered beer. How very plebian. It is all she can do not to roll her eyes at his uncultured order. They toast and talk and she finds him boring to the bone. She also finds herself doubting her choices. She could have stayed home, ordered take-out and enjoyed a screening of her favorite reality TV series but chose this instead? Something’s got to be seriously wrong with her. She is bored within five seconds but listens to him anyway, putting the moves on him anyway. If there is the slightest chance that this will make her get back to normal then she is willing to sacrifice for that. Not that her life would ever go back to completely normal. Too much has changed for that.

She flirts with him, Jake, as she gets to know his regrettably common name. It’s not that he isn’t good looking, which he is, it is just that he isn’t the right kind of good looking. And if she is completely honest with herself, it is because he doesn’t look like the person she would actually like to sleep with. The person she can’t get out of her head even though it has been months. First, she had thought that her lack of action was due to her new business that took up all her time, but as things had started to run smoothly and for the first time in over twenty years men showed an interest in her, no one was quite good enough. And even then, it took her some time to realize that she was comparing every last one of them to someone else, someone she could never have, but someone she desperately wanted. That ship hadn’t so much as sailed, it had flat out sunk. And she had been the one to sink it. Irrevocably. 

It is hard to keep up with Jake’s inane stories. He is just that boring. When she touches his hip flirtatiously, she doesn’t feel a gun there. Apparently, this guy isn’t packing but wearing some kind of metal plated belt, which makes her heart sink, because she would have been up for some serious gunplay, and at the same time groan in embarrassment, because who wears that kind of belt? This isn’t gangster, this is hipster, and the thought makes her want to punch him in the crotch. All she wants is to be thoroughly fucked into the matrass by a dark, tattooed and preferably dangerous stranger and she ends up with a microbrew slurping douchebag. Still she decides to give him one last chance. Maybe the idiot has some idea of what he is doing and if she can get an orgasm out of it, it might just be worth it to tolerate him a little longer.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks in a sweet voice, leaning towards him, trailing one finger around the design on his left hand. He’s so eager, he nearly chokes on his beer at the question. His enthusiasm flatters her and for a second, she thinks that she might have made the right choice in deciding to do this. 

When they step out of the bar, they walk a few paces to a secluded area and there she pulls him close even though it doesn’t feel quite right. His tiny hands (well maybe not that tiny, but these are definitely not the hands she wants to touch her) slip into her hair tenderly, he strokes his thumb along her chin and she barely has it in her to stop herself from huffing at him in frustration. This is a fucking one off! Get rough, buddy! But he doesn’t, he leans in and kisses her softly. He tastes of beer, when he should be tasting of tequila. This is so wrong on so many levels, so soft, so pliant, when all it should be is rough, bruising, teeth scraping her lips, maybe even drawing blood. She moans rather from frustration than from lust, when she realizes that this is not the stuff orgasms are made of. 

But suddenly for the fraction of a second, she believes he has gotten the hang of it, when he swiftly pulls on the hair at the nape of her neck, but just as soon as it has begun, he disconnects from her. She blinks dazed and confused as to what has just happened. When her eyes finally focus on the scene in front of her, she has a hard time comprehending it. Apparently, Jake has been hauled off her and is now being held by two familiar figures. Unable to form a coherent sentence, Beth stutters, “C-Carlos? Bullit? What… ?” Jake begins to struggle against the two men and Carlos is about to punch him, when Beth cries, “Stop! Leave him alone!” Carlos refrains from punching him, even though it seems a great effort.

“Worried about your new boy toy, are you, sweetheart?” a voice that she hasn’t heard in almost a year drawls, her head snaps around and she breathes in audibly. There he is, looking as good as ever, maybe even more so. He is wearing one of his trademark black hoodies, hood half on, half off. His head is slightly tipped back and he is fixing her with his dark eyes, no trace of humor in his face. He shifts his gaze, now looking at Jake.

“So, you think you can go around picking up just any woman you want to, huh?” His hands wander to the back of his pants and sure enough he produces his gold-plated gun. Even though, Beth is beyond terrified at the sudden change of events, she cannot help but think about the other man’s ridiculous belt for the briefest of seconds. Rio aims his gun at Jake’s head and the other man starts babbling excuses, begging for forgiveness. He pulls back the slide and gets ready to shoot, still aiming for his head. Tears start spilling down Jake’s cheeks, he is practically blubbering now. For fuck’s sake, Beth thinks, if this wasn’t so terrifying it would have been ridiculous. And that is when the words leave her mouth as they always have in this kind of situations.

“This is ridiculous!” Her boldness surprises herself. She hasn’t intended to speak at all and when her voice doesn’t even shake one bit she is somewhat impressed with herself. Rio however, isn’t as impressed with her as she is. He lowers the gun and turns towards her.

“Excuse me?” Each syllable is dripping with exasperation and anger. Jake is still struggling and suddenly he calls out, “Let me go, you bastard! I don’t want your slut anyway!” For the briefest of seconds Beth wonders just how stupid a single person can be and as Rio turns back towards him, raises his gun again and fires one shot that grazes Jake’s ear, an eerie calm settles inside her. Just as it has always settled inside her when Rio was at his worst, when he had his boys aim their guns at her and her girls. Jake hollers in pain as blood and cartilage splash out behind him, some of it hitting Bullit in the face, but she barely hears it.

“Stop this!” she says quietly. He has already turned his attention back to her. Anger flashes in his eyes.

“Am I supposed to let him talk to you like this?” he snaps at her. 

“Let him go,” she whispers. “He hasn’t done anything. This is between you and me.” He glares at her.

“Get into the car,” he says and nods towards one of the two black Cadillacs. She doesn’t move and by the way he looks at her, she knows that he hasn’t expected anything else from her.

“I will do no such thing!” she snaps.

“Get into the fucking car, Elizabeth,” he growls back.

“Not until I know, that you won’t hurt him!” He rolls his head from left to right, releasing some of the tension that has been building in his shoulders. When he looks back at her, his voice is calm, but she knows he is livid.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to him. My boys are gonna drop him off and that’s that. Now please, Elizabeth, get into the fucking car.” She moves then and when she passes him she whispers, “Please don’t hurt him. This is on me.” She gets into the car and waits, while Rio and his boys talk for a few minutes. When Rio aims the gun at Jake again, she is already half way out the door again, but he lets the gun drop and Jake almost willingly follows the other two into the second car. 

She leans back into the seat, buckles up, waits for him to get into the car. This really is ridiculous. Who does he think he is? It has been a year since their altercation in the aftermath of their second Fine and Frugal heist. How dare he show up like this and ruin her night? 

Well, to be completely honest with herself, there might not have been much to ruin in the first place, but still! 

He leans against the car for a moment, before he opens the door and takes the driver’s seat. He puts the key into the ignition, starts the car and they take off. Beth doesn’t say anything, neither does he and they drive in silence for a while. She checks the side mirror a few times, but the second car isn’t following them. She hopes that they really do drop Jake off. However, unsatisfactory their encounter might have been for her, she doesn’t want him dead. Why would she? She might not be the virtuous housewife anymore but she didn’t want people dead either. And especially not people who were perfectly innocent. Boring as all fuck? Well yes, but innocent none the less.

After about twenty minutes they have arrived in a somewhat shadier part of town, run down houses lining the street. Although, it is late, there are still people milling about, sitting on their porches. She can see them drinking, she hears the music and their laughter. He pulls into the driveway of a house that is in better repair than the neighboring houses. It is surrounded by an iron fence, the gate sliding open at the press of a button on Rio’s keychain. This must be his house. The front yard is well-kempt, the house looks like it has been painted recently. The door of the garage slides open, granting them access and, once inside, they get out of the car. She follows him into the house. It is spacious and clean, the décor is comfy yet masculine, with thick white rugs covering part of the dark hardwood floors, walls painted in a warm, dark grey. The furniture looks expensive yet unpretentious. He leaves his shoes on the mat next to the front door and she follows suit. When he walks into the kitchen, she follows him there as well. 

“You hungry?” he asks as if nothing’s ever happened between them. She shakes her head confused. “You’re too thin, you need to eat,” he tells her and starts to prepare food anyway. He gets some supplies out of the fridge and starts chopping onions and vegetables and meat. They don’t talk, but she watches him mesmerized. Time speeds up while she watches him, because it feels like only seconds have ticked away, when he puts a plate in front of her.

“Thank you,” she says, before she picks up her fork and tries his food which is just as delicious as it smells. It surprises her that he would be good at something as mundane as cooking. She has never pictured him as the domestic type. Yet his house speaks of a whole different side of him that she has never known until today. It stings. Even though they haven’t talked for months and their association had been superficial at best, she mourns every detail she doesn’t know about him, every detail that she will never know about him.

They eat in silence. When they are finished he takes their plates, rinses them underneath the faucet and puts them into the dishwasher. Then he takes out a bottle of tequila and two glasses, pours them both a healthy shot and slides one glass over to her.

She tips it back, swallows every drop in one go, doesn’t flinch. Neither does he. 

“You think, you can go into a bar like that and I wouldn’t know about it?” he finally asks. Well yes, of course, she’s thought exactly that. For all she knows, he has ended their collaboration the day he showed up at her house and beat Dean to a bloody pulp. For all she knows, he hasn’t given her a single thought after that. Her business is too small to interest him, he has no reason to keep track of her.

“I would have thought, you didn’t care,” she says, her voice cold, her eyes hard. She holds his gaze, doesn’t blink. He doesn’t need to know how she feels inside, that all she wants to do right now is crawl over the kitchen island into his lap and let him fuck her into oblivion, despite the fact that he has just shot some guy's ear off. He also doesn’t need to know how turned on she is right now. And most of all, he doesn’t need to know anything else she feels. The relieve to see him again, in one piece, apparently concerned about her wellbeing. All he has to know about right now is her feeling of exasperation at him for following her around like a stalker.

“I keep track of all the fish in my pond,” he drawls lazily and gives her an amused half smile. Fuck, the astonishment of this revelation must be written all over her face. His quiet chuckle is proof of her slip in self-control.

“You know?” Her voice is nothing but a whisper. But she recovers quickly and a frown creeps over her features. She cannot help but ask herself again, who the fuck does he thinks he is? Is he seriously implying that he has been keeping track of her all this time? That he has been following her around? His reaction shows her that he is reading her like an open book and that he is not pleased. 

“Of course, I know!” he snaps, but his voice doesn’t rise in volume. “Did you even for one second believe that Mike would have given you any of the fake cash, if I hadn’t given my okay first? I knew right from the beginning. The majority of Mike’s share goes to me.” Wow, this is news to her, exasperation leaving her system again quickly. Instead, she is gob smacked, at a loss for words, unable to think straight. 

After their falling out with Rio, the girls went about Beth’s plan to make a run to Canada by themselves. She had tried to negotiate with Big Mike, but he had sent them home without the paper. She had been devastated. With everything they had going on at the time, they needed that money. They were dependent on their side hustle. She had cried for days until her phone rang and the display had flashed a Canadian number. She remembers how her whole body had been numb, how she had barely been able to take the call, how she had barely been able to speak. Mike offered her to pick up some wrapping paper. He offered her a rip off share. But she took it anyway. She knew they could earn. It only meant that they had to work a little harder, a little longer until they could complete her six-month plan. They were still working on completing it. It’s okay though, because the plan has changed with time. Their goals are different now than they have been at the beginning. 

“Why?” is all she manages to say.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks and although one of his eyebrows is raised and his trademark half smile is in place something about his face is off. She shakes her head and he huffs in frustration. Is she missing something? When he leans towards her, near enough for her to catch his intoxicating scent, it doesn’t help to clear her mind. 

“Elizabeth,” he breathes and her breath catches in her throat. A pained expression comes over his face and her chest suddenly feels tight. “I need…” He breaks off, comes closer still and she finds herself whispering, “What do you need?” Her heart sinks when he leans back and brings space between them. That is when she knows that she would give him anything he needs. Stalker or not, she cannot resist him, and like this evening has clearly shown she doesn’t want to resist him either.

“I really need to kiss you right now,” he says but he doesn’t move. The room around her ceases to exists when she hops down from her bar chair and walks around the kitchen island towards him in a haze. Without thinking she raises one hand and takes his face into it, stroking his jaw with her thumb. The scratchy feeling of his stubble against her skin brings her out of her haze for a second and she wonders what it was again that’s had her annoyed with him just a second ago. His perfectly sized hands come to rest on her hips and her mind flashes back to different hands on her just this evening. And while those hands hadn’t felt right, these do. 

“Please,” he whispers. And then she leans in, he makes her go all the way, he doesn’t meet her in the middle, ensuring that this is what she wants as well. She brushes her lips against his softly. Now that she has given her okay, his hands tighten their hold on her and pull her flush against his body. She gasps and he uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss, to let his tongue slide against hers, exploring her mouth, mapping it out as if he is trying to memorize it. The kiss is everything that she needs, rough and hungry. His stubble scratches her skin deliciously and when she bites his lip experimentally his low growl sends a shock of white-hot electricity straight to her core. Her knees give way and she slumps into him, his arms come up around her for support. Blood rushes in her ears, her lungs burn as she cannot seem to get enough oxygen in and she has to break away. But instead of stopping, Rio stands. His hands travel down over her ass, they grab her skirt and pull it up, he spreads her legs before tightening his grip and picking her up. Her skirt rides up even more when she hooks her feet behind his back and kisses him again. She barely notices that they have been moving, when she is suddenly dropped onto a soft surface, his bed. 

A surprised squeal escapes her lips and he chuckles softly as he looks down at her as she is spread out before him on his bed. And spread out she is, another two buttons of her blouse have become undone, giving him a good view of her breasts covered by her lacey bra, her skirt is pushed up around her hips, legs parted, giving him a good view of her cunt, covered only by her matching lacey panties. For a moment she feels self-conscious while her eyes travel up his still fully clothed body, but when their eyes lock and she sees the hunger in his gaze, she feels beautiful and desired and every doubt she might have been feeling leaves her body. He makes to bend down but she shakes her head and he stills, watching her. Her hands move to her blouse, she undoes the last buttons and shrugs out of it. A strangled moan escapes Rio’s throat and it only works to drive her onwards. She fumbles with the zipper of her skirt and pushes it down over her feet, then she scoots up and props herself against a soft pillow.

“Now you,” she whispers. And he complies. Stripping off his hoodie and plain white t-shirt, then pushing down his pants. He is hard for her, his erection tenting his boxer briefs obscenely. He crawls onto the bed, grabs her legs pulling her under himself and kisses her again. His hands wander to her back and open her bra. He pulls back a little and watches her breasts spill out. With a contented sigh he resumes kissing her. But soon his mouth leaves hers and travels down her jaw, to her neck, sucking on its pulse point, moving down farther, teeth gently scraping her clavicle. She writhes beneath him. None of this is enough, she needs this to go faster but then again, her heart beats like crazy and she needs this to go slower still. 

His hands and his mouth on her overwhelm her, every touch is too much and not enough at the same time. Her mind is reeling, struggling to catch on that this is really happening, that the man she has been yearning for for more than a year is finally touching her. When his tongue flicks over one of her nipples, she cries out, her back arching wantonly, but too far gone to care. His hand brushes along her side and the muscles in her stomach clench as it nears her panties. When he touches her, through the lacey fabric, her hips buck of their own accord. A breathy chuckle leaves his throat and she would have been embarrassed if she hadn’t known that he is just as turned on as she is. She pushes down her panties, because even this small piece of cloth is too much between them. He groans and leans his forehead against her thigh when he realizes that she has opted for the full Brazilian. 

He scoots down, kissing her lips, pulling them into his mouth, running his tongue along them. She hears words and it takes her a while to realize that she is the one uttering them. “Oh god, Rio! Please! Please! Please!” Finally, his tongue brushes over her aching clit and she arches into the touch. When he starts eating her out with abandon, fireworks of pleasure go off inside of her. He circles her clit with his tongue and sucks it into his mouth, while she writhes and moans beneath him. His right hand comes down on her knee and starts to slowly travel up her thigh until he dips his fingertips between her wet folds. He teases her for a moment, until she impatiently pushes against him, and then slides first one then two fingers inside of her and starts to fuck her slowly. The muscles in her core begin to tighten almost immediately, the onslaught of pleasure threatening to overwhelm her. She tries to back away from him, heels digging into the mattress in an attempt to bring space between them, shying away from her impending orgasm. Uncertain he stops his motions and looks up into her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly. Insecurity is written all over his face and although she feels overwrought by what he has been doing to her body, his gaze melts her heart.

“I haven’t… I can’t… I…” She can’t really bring herself to confess how she hasn’t had sex in a long, long time and how what they are doing now is likely too much for her. 

“Do you want to stop?” he whispers and, in this moment, she knows that he would stop immediately if she told him to. It is enough to reassure her. She shakes her head. 

“Thank god,” he says and kisses her inner thigh tenderly, before he returns his attention back to the task at hand. Within minutes he has her incoherent again, whispering and moaning his name over and over again until her muscles spasm around his fingers and she comes gloriously, her thighs snapping shut, trapping him. 

When she comes down, it takes her a few seconds to realize that he is trapped and chuckling between her thighs. She blushes furiously and mumbles, “Sorry, I…” But she doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. He crawls up to her, rubbing his ear.

“Did I hurt you?” she blurts. His eyes glint with humor as he shakes his head. She wants to kiss him, when he rubs his nose along her jaw, but she isn’t sure what the correct protocol is after someone has gone down on you. When he looks into her eyes again, she lifts her head towards him tentatively and after a moment of hesitation kisses him anyway. He groans his approval into her mouth and desire shoots through her just as if he hadn’t just made her come a minute ago. 

She lets her hands wander down his sides towards his briefs and slips one hand between them, gently brushing her fingertips against his hard cock. His hips buck involuntarily into her hand and she is oh so pleased with herself to have this kind of effect on him. He breaks their kiss for air and she trails kisses along his jaw line towards his ear and whispers, “Do you want to fuck me?” Wondering how exactly she has mustered the boldness for the question.

He groans, “Dirty talk, huh?” he rasps, “I might like that.” The way he keeps rubbing himself against her hand makes her feel light-headed and powerful.

“Well, do you? Because if you’re quite finished with me, I could think of a thousand things…” But she doesn’t get to finish teasing him for he flicks one wicked thumb across her still overly sensitive clit, drawing a surprised yelp from her lips. 

Suddenly, he is off her, off the bed, rummaging through his clothes, clearly searching for something. It is only when he straightens again, a square package of silvery foil in his hands that she realizes that he has been searching for a condom. Her eyes go wide, when she also realizes that she hasn’t given one thought to condoms tonight. Not even when she went out with the clear intention of pulling a tattooed stranger in a bar. Well, it seems not only has Rio rescued her from a night of mediocre sex, but also from catching an STD. 

His eyes lock with hers as he opens the small package and takes the condom out. It feels deliciously filthy when he wraps himself up and doesn’t break eye contact for a second. She can feel her mouth running dry from the debauched scene playing out in front of her. She realizes that he is teasing her back, when he lifts an eyebrow and says quietly, “You’re drooling a little. There.” He indicates the spot by touching the skin at the corner of his own mouth.

She flushes furiously and her hands fly to her face, only to find it completely dry. When her eyes meet his again, he is chuckling, mirth sparkling in them as he makes his way back to bed. While he crawls on top of her, she wonders just how they could ever be this relaxed and playful around each other after he had been so angry with her following Fine and Frugal the Second. She had assumed that she had ruined everything between them and now they were doing this, teasing each other, laughing together, making each other come. Well, her at least. Or at least so far. 

She loses her train of thought when he kisses her again. When he pulls back, he takes his cock in hand and brushes the tip over her clit teasingly. They lock gazes and all humor has left his eyes when he quietly asks, “You up for this?” 

All she can do is nod and it doesn’t even take a second before he enters her in one swift motion, burying himself as deeply inside of her as possible. Already she can feel another orgasm approaching as desire shoots through her like white-hot electricity. But instead of moving straight away, he keeps himself steady in order to give her time to adjust to him. His eyes have fallen shut, his face is strained and she knows it takes quite the effort not to lose himself in her and in his search for pleasure and release. She raises her hands to his face, smoothing out his furrowed brows and then she leans in for a soft kiss. His eyes flutter open when she pulls back again, but it takes him some work to focus his gaze on her.

“Move,” she commands once he has managed and she can see his pupils dilate as well as feel his cock twitch inside of her as arousal courses through him. 

And he complies. Pulling almost all the way out, then slowly pushing back in. A low growl escaps his throat in the process. He repeats the motion and they soon settle into a slow and sensuous rhythm, that has Beth curling her toes. His thumb comes down on her clit again teasing her just to the brink of completion before he flips them over, so he is lying on his back with her on top. Surprised she stays motionless for a few seconds, before one of his hand comes up to her breasts and pinches one of her nipples lightly. She rolls her hips experimentally, his answering moan making her feel powerful and encouraging her to start riding him in earnest. And she starts fucking herself on his hard cock with abandon, his thumb on her clit helping her to her second orgasm of the evening. She has to brace herself with her hands on his chest to keep upright as she rides out her pleasure. When she stills to catch her breath and recover from the pleasure wreaking havoc inside of her, he makes to flip them over again, but she isn’t ready to give up her power just yet, no matter how heavy her limbs feel right now. She shakes her head and starts to move again. He doesn’t complain but starts to meet her on each downward thrust and she can tell he is close and desperate to come. She slows her pace down, high on the power she holds over him right now. A frustrated whimper, that would probably embarrass him to no end should she ever choose to remind him of it, leaves his lips and his fingers dig into her hips almost painfully, trying to get her to up her pace again. She complies for a couple of seconds, before slowing down again. 

“You’re killing me, woman,” he growls and she smirks down at him. “Two not enough for you?” Quite to the contrary two orgasms are more than enough for her, especially if they are of today’s variety. It is just that she thoroughly enjoys herself and the power that comes with her position even though it is getting harder and harder to move on top of him as fatigue is taking her over. 

“You could always try asking nicely,” she says still smirking. He huffs in frustration as he tries to thrust upwards but she just moves with him, denying him the friction he is seeking. He fixes her with a heated glare, but only receives a raised eyebrow in return.

“Elizabeth,” he growls and although it technically isn’t asking, the sound of her full name sets her in motion again. He bites his lip as his hand makes its way to her core again, touching her again. He wants her to come again, she knows it, but she is using up the last of her strength to move on top of him, so that won’t be happening tonight. But to finish takes him longer than she has anticipated and when he starts thrusting into her again, while his fingers circle her clit gently yet insistently, her body surprises her when she feels the pressure building for a third time tonight. How is this even humanly possible? The question manifests itself in her brain for a few seconds, before it is chased away by the fog that is notifying her of another climax heading her way. With his expert fingers on her it doesn’t take long until her walls are clamping down on him again. In a haze she can see him releasing his lip from between his teeth, concentration marking his face as he viciously thrusts into her a couple of times, before he tenses up and buries himself in her as deeply as possible. When she feels his cock pulsing inside of herself, she finally lets herself fall forward boneless, unable to move an inch, even if she wanted to. 

They lie like this for a while, his cock still inside her, her face buried in the crook of his neck, both of them breathing heavily. Her eyes have drifted shut and she is about to fall asleep when he moves, pulling out of her and pushing her of him gently. They disconnect completely and she feels her heart lurch at the loss of contact. She suppresses a yearning sigh, because no matter how dazed she might be from being thoroughly fucked by the object of her desires, she still knows that this is a one-time kind of deal. The bed shifts as he gets off and walks over to the bathroom. She hears the rustling of his clothes as he gets dressed, but she keeps her eyes closed, hurt that they wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed. Is this even his bedroom? Or has he brought her to the guestroom? 

“Rio,” she mumbles as she feels the rush of air on her bare shoulder when he opens the bedroom door to leave.

“Shush,” he whispers, “we’ll talk later.” Her eyes sting when she hears his footsteps descending the stairs, bringing space between the two of them. She doesn’t have a lot of time to dwell on the fact that her whole plan of getting him out of her system has failed pathetically, because exhaustion is dragging her down to sleep. Her eyes, however, shoot open a couple of seconds later, when she hears Rio’s voice talking in rapid Spanish. He pauses for a few seconds, then talks again, pause, talk, and she realizes that he must be on the phone with somebody. She struggles to sit up and gets dressed as quickly as she can still manage, determined to make her exit if he doesn’t want her in his bed. She pads down the stairs and spots him on the sofa, wearing only his briefs, phone at his ear. When he sees her he covers the receiver of the phone with his hands and says, “You leaving? I thought you were out cold.” He looks at her with earnest eyes, regret clearly written all over his face. So, he really wants her gone. As hurt as she might already be, she isn’t going to force herself on him. 

“I’d rather sleep in my own bed, than in your guestroom,” she says, sounding tired and worn out to her own ears.

“I don’t have a guestroom,” he answers.

“Oh,” is all she manages.

“Yeah, oh,” he repeats and glares at her for a second. “Now get upstairs, I’ll finish this call and then I’ll be right up.”

She feels stupid while she walks up the flight of stairs. How is she supposed to know that he doesn’t have a guestroom? Who walks out of the bedroom right after sex to make some calls? When she enters the room, she can see the heap of his clothes lying at the foot of the bed. Years of picking up after her kids make her bend down and fold them neatly over the chair in the corner of the room, despite the exhaustion that was threatening to floor her at any second. She takes off her clothes again and crawls underneath the crisp white covers. She is out within seconds and only briefly regains consciousness when the bed dips on one side and she is pulled into strong, warm arms. 

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?” is the last thing she hears before she drifts off for good.

***

When she wakes up the next morning, she is disoriented, not recognizing her surroundings. But only a second later the memories are flashing through her with a force that makes hear breath catch in her chest. She groans as arousal floods through her at the recollection of what exactly Rio has done to her just a few short hours ago.

“Reliving or regretting,” his sleep muffled voice says next to her.

“Huh?” Her head snaps to him, taking him in, imprinting the picture of him barely awake into her brain.

“Are you reliving or regretting what we did yesterday?” he asks, cracking open one eye to look at her. She blushes, because it definitely isn’t the latter.

“Reliving, then,” he smirks and pulls her too him, kissing the top of her head. His hands wander down her body, towards her core. And before she can even form a coherent thought, two of his fingers are buried inside of her, making her head spin. Oh god, is he just picking up where they left off yesterday? Apparently, because his fingers start moving in and out of her, his thump gently rubbing her clit until she is writhing against him again. Her orgasm is quickly approaching, when she manages to grind out, “Don’t you want to fuck me?” He chuckles and lets his teeth graze against her earlobe.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” he teases. Her hand travels behind her, where his erection is nestled against her ass and takes it into her hand. He groans and quickens the pace of his fingers, pushing in and out of her. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, “that was my last condom. Do you have any?” She absentmindedly shakes her head. When his fingers suddenly leave her, she yelps surprised by the sudden lack of contact. Turning around she has a hard time focusing on his face. She is still beyond turned on and doesn’t quite understand why he is denying her her release. 

“What?”

“Are you telling me that you went to that dump yesterday, fully intending to pull some guy and fuck him without a condom?” his voice is stern. She blushes and shrugs.

“You forget that I was married for almost twenty years. I haven’t pulled strangers in bars in like forever. I forgot!” 

“That’s not an excuse,” he says and kisses her, his hands wandering down her body again. “If you don’t come prepared, you don’t come at all!” And with that he snatches his hands away and makes to get up. 

“What do you care? About any of this? Why do you know about my business and why didn’t you contact me about is? Why do you show up and shoot the first guy’s ear off that I was prepared to hook up with?” she fires off question after question at him, being denied her release making her cranky.

“Bathroom is through there, take a shower, we’ll talk over breakfast,” he says, “I’ll bring you towels in a sec.” And he leaves the room.

She huffs in frustration, still painfully aroused. She throws the blanket back and makes her way to the bathroom. Her body protests with every step from last night’s exertions. She makes her way to the shower, turns the water on and waits for it to heat up before she steps into the spray. She finds Rio’s soap and smells it before she starts shampooing her hair and then soaping down her body. She is still hot and bothered and without thinking much about where she is and who might run in on her, she lets her hand drip between her thighs and starts to tease herself. Her lips part, her eyes drift shut, only to shoot open again when she hears a strangled moan that doesn’t come from her. She struggles to cover herself, despite the fact that she has seen her naked before and despite the fact that she has nothing to cover herself with. Mortification makes a blush creep up her neck, basically turning her red from head to toe. 

He lets the towels in his hands drops and makes it into the shower in three long strides, never bothering to take his clothes off. He runs his hands through her wet hair, letting them trail down her back and pulls her close. His kisses are hungry and insistent, making her stumble back against the cold tiles. She moans into his mouth, when he grinds against her and his hand travels towards her core. 

“Damn it,” he mutters against her mouth.

“I’m on the pill, in case you were wondering,” she pants while his fingers are pumping in and out of her at a slow pace. He grunts, shaking his head, still rutting against her.

“You shouldn’t pick up random girls, if you don’t have any condoms. And on that note, you also shouldn’t start anything with them in the shower.” She is proud of herself for forming three fully coherent sentences, consisting of more than two words each, while he is doing to her what he is doing now. 

“I don’t,” he answers and continues circling her clit with his thumb.

“What?” Damn it! She’s lost her train of thought after all.

“I don’t pick up random girls, I picked up you,” he says and kisses her throat. It is hard to have a conversation, while two of his fingers are buried inside of her to the knuckles, his thumb is brushing over her clit with just the right pressure, while he grinds his erection against her hip. It is even harder to convince him to fuck her without a condom with rational arguments. Especially so, when he is right and it isn’t particularly rational to want that. To actually answer him is almost impossible, when her brain starts to fog, as her muscles begin to tighten around his fingers, still she manages to pant, “Same thing.”

“Nah, it isn’t,” he says, before he makes her come, kissing her deeply, holding her upright against the tiles as her knees give out. It takes some time for her to register, what he has just said, because, hell, when has she ever had an orgasm like that? That is, except for last night. He kisses her ear, neck and clavicle still rubbing himself against her, moaning quietly from time to time, while she comes down in his arms. As her brain function starts kicking in a couple of moments later, a realization hits her and she cannot help but laugh. Pulling back a little, he gives her a puzzled look.

“You have a crush on me!” she says triumphantly, blushing a little, because there is still a part of her that fears she might have misread the situation.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have crushes, being a gang leader and all that,” he answers. But when he blushes as well, she knows that she has hit gold. It’s absurd. She throws her head back and laughs. Her first real laugh in a long time. She laughs until her eyes are wet and then she looks at him.

“So, you have the big bad, manly, equivalent of a crush on me,” she states still giggling. 

“As long as we agree that it’s manly,” he says and kisses her. And she knows it is true. Rio, whose last name she has yet to find out, has a crush on her. Laughter bubbles out of her throat and even though he growls a little and scrapes her collarbone with his teeth, she cannot control herself. Already the muscles in her stomach are hurting. Has really been keeping her in business after their falling out, because he’s had a crush on her? And has he always been following her around, or just when she was out to get some? 

“Unbelievable,” she mutters, slowly regaining control over herself.

“What?” he answers.

“We could have been doing this for the last year, if you had just said something,” she says.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey I’m back from jail, where you put me, sweetheart. Wanna bang?’” He brings some distance between them and looks at her. It’s not quite a glare, but the temperature has definitely dropped several degrees. She looks down, ashamed of herself. Not only has he not harmed her, after she has betrayed him like that, he has kept her affluent and has looked out for her. It’s hard to make herself look into his eyes again, but she needs him to see her sincerity for this one.

“I’m sorry!” His gaze softens at her words, but the hardness doesn’t leave his eyes completely. “I thought, you were going to hurt us,” she continues quietly.

“I very nearly had to,” he answers, his face setting into a pained frown.

“Why didn’t you?” 

“If any of the guys had found out what’d actually happened, there’d have been no way for you to make it out alive. And I would have had to do it. As I said, this shit is medieval.” He kisses her then, pulling her close almost painfully so, kissing her with bruising force. When they break apart, they are both panting.

“What did you do?”

“I covered your tracks. Pinned all of it on that creepy dude with the goatee. And then I went to your house and scared the shit out of you and your piece of shit husband.” One of his hands brushes a strand of wet hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve always wondered what has happened to Boomer…” she trails off and they are quiet for a few seconds before she continues, “If it makes you feel any better, whatever you did to him he deserved it. He tried to rape Annie a couple of times. I wacked him with a bottle of Bourbon once and kept him hostage in my kids’ tree house for a few days.” It’s his time to laugh now. He kisses her in between chuckles, before he answers.

“Wow, remind me not to get on your bad side again.” She giggles again, feeling weightless and carefree in his arms, while the hot water keeps splashing over them. 

“Well, I might have screwed up a teeny tiny little bit,” she says, eyes alight with mirth, “but expect to be yelled at for shooting random guys’ ears off at a later point in time.”

“Hardly,” he says chuckling. She raises a questioning eyebrow at him. 

“Do you think I won’t follow through?”

“That’s exactly what I think. By the time you want said yelling to take place, my copious amounts of irresistible allure will already have made you fall in love with me.” She snorts gracelessly, and she can feel his grin against her skin as he nibbles at her ear.

“You’re so full of it,” she says and pushes him back a little so she can look into his eyes. “So how about you get out of these pants and I suck you off, so that we can get out of this shower and into that Escalade to procure those condoms that you won’t fuck me without, because I’m free until four.” He releases a strangled moan and kisses her quickly, before she proceeds to set her plan into motion.

**Author's Note:**

> It took me ages to finish this story. Smut is so hard to write sometimes. I still hope you enjoy this story. Comments and Kudos are as always greatly encouraged and very much appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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